


The Typewriter

by LastNightFanfictionSavedMyLife



Category: Chernobyl (TV 2019)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Love, Romance, Smut, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:42:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28372578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LastNightFanfictionSavedMyLife/pseuds/LastNightFanfictionSavedMyLife
Summary: A typewriter was sitting in the middle of his desk. What the f*ck was that doing here?-I blame the plot bunnies - they made me do it!Based upon the 2019 'Chernobyl' HBO series and the character therein of Anatoly Dyatlov, played by the most glorious and beautiful Paul Ritter.Please heed warnings and tags and notes etc before reading.-Alright Bambinos, please read and enjoy!Kudos and Comments always greatly appreciated.
Relationships: Anatoly Dyatlov/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 3
Collections: The Dyat Love Collection!





	The Typewriter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NatashaRedFox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NatashaRedFox/gifts).



> A continuation of my other story 'The Secret Admirer'. This one is a tad more explicit, and didn't fit into that story. Hence this here separate one!
> 
> Watch out for his smiles! There is more than one here.

A typewriter was sitting in the middle of his desk. _What the fuck was that doing here?_ he thought. Surely someone had made a mistake? He approached it slowly, his eyes narrowing. _Was one of the imbecile students attempting to play a practical joke on me?_ There was a note placed on top of it. He caught a waft of scent on the note, recognising it instantly. _It belonged to her!_ His tormentor and his lover! 

He unfolded the note and read:

**My dearest, darling, most handsome Anatoly. I know this is out of your usual remit, but I feel compelled to ask you anyway. My favourite typewriter has jammed. I don't trust the usual _idiots_ to repair it properly. I've tried myself, but to no avail. Please could you try for me? Thank you Xxx**

No name, not that it needed one, he knew exactly who it was from. He smiled to himself at the word 'dearest'. He read the note again and turned the piece of paper over. He knew to check now, just in case she'd scribbled something else. She had. Two stick figures kissing, with love hearts surrounding them and a small rose held in the male stick figure's hand. He chuckled and sat down at his desk, folding the note up and placing it in his jacket's inside pocket. 

He thought it might have been a mistake giving her a spare key to his office, as he wondered what else she'd leave here for him. He'd found a pair of her knickers in his desk drawer last week, and an indecent drawing of their stick figure selves under his telephone the week before. He'd had to rapidly cover it up as Bryukhanov had chosen that precise moment to come and see him. He was amazed at how much detail she could get into two stick figures doing that particular act. He'd put her drawing, and her knickers at the back of his, now always locked, desk drawer for contemplation whenever he was feeling down. Both soon perked him up again. In more ways than one. 

But then again, on second thoughts, maybe it wasn't a mistake giving her the key to his private domain. He grinned widely as he thought about what they'd got up to in his office with only one chair and a, thankfully, very sturdy desk. His hands stilled and he stared off into the distance as he remembered what she'd done with her tongue while he sat here in this very chair only last week. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in and out to calm himself. He ran a finger around the inside of his collar as he felt himself heating up at _that_ particular thought. That woman would be the death of him, _but what a lovely way to go!_

Two hours later and the typewriter was fixed. He was perplexed though. How would he let her know it was all fixed and ready? She didn't have a personal pigeon hole as he did. And he daren't approach her in the typing pool where she worked. That would leave him open to derisory comments and looks from the ninnies that worked there with her. The replacement supervisor was as much of an annoying old baggage as the previous one was. _There must be some special school where they spat the old hags out_ he thought. He left the typewriter on his desk as he headed off to the control room for his shift. It would have to wait there until he saw her later.

-

It was dark by the time he returned to his office. He opened the door, intending to turn the lights on, but a hand was placed on his, stopping him in his tracks. 

"Ahh! What! Who is it?!" he shouted as he jumped back. His voice was a slightly higher pitch than usual.

A giggle was his reply. _Her!_

He froze in the doorway, the hand that had attempted to turn his light on dropped back by his side, the other was gripping the door handle so tightly that his knuckles turned white. _My evil tormentor will pay for making me scream like a girl!_ He grinned and closed and locked the door behind him.

"I have you now, there's no escape!" he chuckled into the darkened room. _Where was she?_

"Who says I want to escape?" came her reply.

He turned his head towards her voice. She was near his desk. He took a step towards where he guessed her to be, moving slowly while waiting for his eyes to become accustomed to the darkness.

"Over here Anatoly," her voice beckoned him onwards, pulling at him, drawing him nearer. "Come closer…" he wasn't a stupid man by any stretch of the imagination, so he knew precisely when to do as he was told.

As his eyes adjusted, he could see that she was perched on the front of his desk. He drew nearer, stopping directly in front of her. He heard her clothing rustle, then felt her hand on his face. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. He revelled in that small sensation. Feeling like a starving man being given a feast, even if it was only one small bite. But to him, it was a banquet as he'd been famished for so very long.

She brushed her thumb over his cheek, swiping his tear away. 

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Are you alright?"

"Happy tears my beautiful rose, only the happiest of tears for you."

Her other hand went upwards to be placed on the other side of his face. Her feather light touch made his breath hitch. She pulled him downwards, towards her. He claimed her lips with his. _How heavenly she felt! His lover!_

Indecent sounds filled his office. Their moans, his growls and her high pitched mewling.

Her hands wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. His fingers dug into her sides where his hands gripped her waist tightly. He nudged her legs apart with his knees, wanting to get closer still. His hands slid around her, grabbing her bottom and pulling her tightly into him as her legs encircled him. He bucked into her. _God! She will definitely be my undoing!_

He drew back, breaking their kiss, moving back so that her legs dropped away from him. This time it was her lips chasing his. _God, but he wanted her!_ He looked down at her. He needed to know first. To make sure, before he went any further and couldn't stop himself. His insecurities were always niggling at him.

"Are you sure? I mean… here? Now?" his voice trailed off, leaving just their heavy breaths between them.

"Yes, silly man. It's not the first time we've done this is it?" 

"I know, I just…" his reply was cut off by her lips smashing into his. 

She pulled him back towards her. He didn't need asking twice. He didn't really need asking once, but he was forever the gentleman, so he _usually_ did. Not always though, especially if she'd been teasing him all day, then he'd just pounce on her. He'd dragged her into that cleaning cupboard, more than once now, and had her there, where they'd first kissed. 

They resumed their previous position: him pressing against her core; her with her legs wrapped up around him. He bucked directly into her, grinding himself there against her warmth. This pulled the most delicious and delightful noises from her. Noises that tugged his onwards, towards his goal. Her skirt had hitched up, exposing her thighs to his touch. He ran his hands along them, from her waist to her knees. Her skin was so warm. So soft. He drew back a little, giving his hand the space it needed to reach down between them. His fingers dove towards her, pulling her knickers to one side. He traced up her with one finger, pulling another glorious moan from her and a growl from himself as he felt how absolutely soaking she was. 

She reached down and moved his fingers to where she wanted them to be, moved them how she needed him to move them. It didn't take long for his clever fingers to cause her nub to harden and for her to tense, then shudder and cry his name out into his shoulder. 

He moved his hands, undoing his trousers, releasing himself.

"Wait, wait!" she reached behind her, scrabbling around with a hand. _Oh! She's changed her mind after all?_

"No silly," she placed her other hand on his cheek, seeing his frown. She turned and reached into her handbag, rummaging through it until she pulled a condom out. _Oh!_ His smile returned.

She observed raptly as he slowly rolled the prophylactic onto himself. She always delighted in watching him do that. It meant that she could have a good look at him while he was so deliciously hard.

He felt his face heat, as it always did when he fell under her intent scrutiny.

He repositioned himself and kissed her deeply again. Pushing himself inside her, one thrust, two, he eased himself as deep as he could go, placing his hands back on her bottom to pull her even closer onto him. He groaned loudly, reveling in the absolute bliss he felt as he was finally where he'd spent the whole day dreaming of being. Ever since their heady kiss as they parted ways that morning. It didn't take long for his release to follow hers. They held each other closely, tightly. Neither wanting to leave the warm cocoon of the other just yet. 

They finally moved apart. All shaking legs, whispered loving endearments and gentle touches. 

They left his office, hands held together tightly, as they walked down the corridor and back home. 

The typewriter sat, forgotten, on his desk.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Anatoly Dyatlov says practice safe sex. Always be careful when raising your control rods.


End file.
